


Have yourself an Ineffable Christmas

by saltybreaddream



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: An Ineffable Holiday (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltybreaddream/pseuds/saltybreaddream
Summary: My part in the An Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt galore. All chapters will be connected so they can't be read as stand alone. So it's up to you if you want to read one chapter a day or wait until the end of the month! Kudos and comments give me life so please please please give me some.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Ineffable Holiday 2020





	1. Day 1 - Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite ineffable husbands slow dancing in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta has done some incredibly amazing work. Thank you so much. You are the Batman to my Alfred as you do the hard work of organising my thoughts for me.

  
By the first day of December there isn't a shop that doesn't have Christmas decorations out. Aziraphale finds it amusing, considering the lack of snow London has seen for the past decade or two. Which is a pity, really, for he loves snow. Out of all of God's creations, this is the one he admires the most.

The day passes slowly, not many people having time to visit a bookstore on a Monday. By the time it's five o'clock in the afternoon and Aziraphale turns the sign on the door from open to closed, he feels as if an eon has passed. Which is silly, really, but in a way he relates to the silly human expression. He pulls all the curtains so no one can see inside the store and looks around himself.

"Maybe just a bit of decorating won't hurt. After all, one of my jobs is to blend in. Gabriel would surely understand," the angel tells himself and a soft smile appears on his face at the thought of decorations and festivity.

❄❄❄

Crowley is having an awfully rotten day. There are Christmas songs everywhere. And Christmas decorations. And Christmas themed baked goods. At some point he even caught himself considering setting one of the decorated trees on fire just for the hell of it. He tried to fix his mood by engaging in some of his favourite hobbies - yelling at his plants and threatening his car. He even decided to take South London's WiFi network down just for kicks. When that didn't work, he knew there was only one more thing left to do.

He goes to the basement he turned into a private wine cellar , grabbing the first bottle he can get his hands on. Visiting Aziraphale always makes him happy, but he refuses to outright admit it. So he finds a reason behind each visit. Sometimes he uses the 'there is this restaurant I found' excuse. Other times it’s: 'I'm looking for this rare book’. But his most favourite excuse is: 'I have this bottle of wine and I need help drinking it.' 

Part one of his plan, namely the alcohol, is completed successfully. Now all he needs is a willing angel to help him drink it. But not just any angel, his favourite one.

❄❄❄

Aziraphale found himself in a rabbit hole quite literally. He wanted to do the whole decoration business the human way, which meant ordering the decorations online, like a normal human. It would take a few days for his order to be delivered, the kind person from the website told him.

"Thank you! I don't mind waiting." Aziraphale says to his laptop and closes it just in time for the knock on the door to draw the angel's attention. He doesn't need to look to know who is at the door. "Come in." 

He blinks once and Crowley is standing in front of him. "Demon." He says the word with warmth and affection.

"Angel." Crowley acknowledges him with a smirk. "I found this and thought of you." The demon raises his hand to show the bottle of wine he is holding.

"Oh, how splendid!" Aziraphale's smile grows bigger and he hurriedly fetches two wine glasses for them while Crowley sets a table and two chairs for them in their favourite corner.

"Where did you get the wine from?" the angel asks as he sets the glasses on the table and takes a seat.

Crowley shrugs and refuses to look at his friend. "I bought it so many years ago, the label is faded and I can't really remember." It's a lie and the demon knows it. He remembers the exact day, a hundred and twenty years ago, when he used the wine purchase as an excuse to spy on his angel. He looks at Aziraphale, but he can't say if the other is seeing right through his lie.

❄❄❄

A glass turns into two, then a bottle of wine turns into three bottles of wine. Soon Crowley can't even remember what got him all riled up in the first place. Aziraphale is just as drunk and the demon fights the urge to pull his angel close and kiss him soundly. If Crowley was a poet, he would write volumes upon volumes on how beautiful his angel is with cheeks flushed red and eyes sparkling with equal measures of happiness and pure delight. Alas, Crowley is but a mere demon, so all he can do is admire his friend from across the table.

"It's just not the same, you know. And it's such a pity. So sad and upsetting considering how beautiful everything used to be."

It takes Crowley a few moments to realise that Aziraphale is speaking to him. He nods his head, even though he has absolutely no idea what has happened. "A pity indeed," he parrots dutifully.

"Snow was one of the first things about Earth that I loved. I used to look forward to it. So white and pretty. You should have seen it in the moonlight. Shinier than any diamond in existence," Aziraphale says and rests his head on the table.

Crowley blinks once, then blinks again for good measure. So that's what made his angel look so upset. It just won't do! Before he can talk himself out of it, Crowley snaps his fingers. A snowflake falls, then another. Aziraphale looks up at the ceiling, confusion written all over his face.

"What...?" the angel asks, confused, and looks at Crowley, who smiles in return.

"A little miracle. Just for you," the demon answers and stands up, swaying unsteadily on his feet. He finds his balance after a moment, walks around the table and offers his hand to Aziraphale. "May I have this dance, kind Sir?" 

There is not even the slightest hint of hesitation when his angel places his hand on top of Crowley's. It reminds the demon of just how far they've come. He pulls the other closer, wrapping his free hand around the angel's waist.  
  
"We don't have any music," Aziraphale mumbles as he rests his head on Crowley's shoulder and closes his eyes.

Crowley considers another miracle for a second, but then a better idea pops up in his mind. "Then I'll make some," he whispers, afraid to break this fragile atmosphere they’ve found themselves in. His pointy chin rests on top of Aziraphale's head as he starts humming Valzer Dei Fiori. 

"Pyotr was such a talented man. I knew you would love his music," Aziraphale says, and Crowley doesn't need to look at his angel to know that he is smiling.

"Only when I have you as my partner," Crowley admits and resumes humming, carefully leading them in the gentle movements of the waltz as the snow keeps falling around them.


	2. Day 2 - Ice skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wants to take Crowley on a date. Things don't go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter gave me feels. Again, I'd like to thank my beta for being amazing and supporting me in this diabetes inducing adventure.

Aziraphale wakes up the next morning with a slight headache. He really should have remembered to sober up before falling asleep. He turns in bed, smiles at the sight of Crowley asleep and moves closer. The demon always radiates heat and Aziraphale finds that particular fact very useful when the mornings are cold. Crowley doesn’t stir, another wordless sign of how deep their trust in each other runs. The blond-haired angel thinks about opening the shop today, maintaining appearances, and quickly dismisses the thought. 

“Crowley,” he whispers and pokes the other’s cheek.

The demon grumbles, then nuzzles Aziraphale’s neck. A loud giggle escapes the angel’s lips and he pulls away.

“That’s not fair, you know that I’m ticklish!” Aziraphale whines as he gets out of bed. He tilts his head a bit, staring at Crowley as an idea pops into his head. “Let’s go ice skating! I’ve always wanted to learn how to do it!” 

The only answer he gets is a very, very loud groan. The angel ignores it completely, knowing very well that Crowley will follow him eventually. He gets dressed in a pair of trousers and a warm sweater, forgoing his usual slacks, shirt and cardigan. ‘This is not a date!’ he scolds himself, but still allows a spare moment or two in front of the mirror to fix his hair.

With step one completed, Aziraphale goes to the front of the bookshop, looking for a tourist guide of London or anything else that can point him in the direction of a skating ring. 

“Normal people tend to use the Internet, you know?” Crowley’s amused voice reaches him and he looks up to see the demon leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and his usual amused smirk in place.

“That is true, my friend, but some of us like to do certain things the good old-fashioned way,” Aziraphale answers and returns his attention to the magazines in his hands.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Crowley exclaims, then makes a bunch of gagging noises.

“Just come here, you silly white feathered thing!” The demon grabs his hand and drags him outside through the front door.

“The world is one big skating ring if you wish it to be.” He smirks and before Aziraphale can complain, the sidewalks and the entire street are covered in ice. 

The mayhem that follows makes the angel sigh and roll his eyes. Part of him wants to be mad at Crowley and another part is just a little bit fond of the demon's antics. Aziraphale knows that everything that the other does is for the sake of making him happy, there is no malice behind the actions. ‘It’s a holiday. And maybe he will enjoy it just as much if you let him have things his way,’ a tiny voice in the back of his head tells him. So the angel does the next best thing he can think of, and with a wave of his hand gifts them and all of the people around them with a pair of skates.

“That’s the spirit!” Crowley cheers and slides on the ice rather gracefully. He gently takes Aziraphale’s hand in his, their fingers entwined, and supports the angel through the first few experimental slides on the ice.

“You are a natural!” he praises him and Aziraphale can’t help the blush that turns his cheeks scarlet.

He notices the humans slowly shaking off the shock and looking at the two of them before a few of the pedestrians join in. Soon everyone caught in this weird miracle is having fun, children laughing and adults chattering as they skate in circles. The angelic part of him worries about Gabriel. What will management say? What if Crowley gets in trouble? As if detecting his distress, the demon leans over and presses a kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head, my angel! Remember the stunt we pulled after the end of the apocalypse? I doubt they will bother with us anymore, not when they all believe She is on our side.” Crowley’s words bring him peace in a way nothing else does.

“Do you really think so? Do you believe we are part of Her ineffable plan?” the angel asks, curious about what the other has to say.

Crowley doesn’t answer right away. He is thinking carefully about the question and what he really believes in, Aziraphale can tell. The angel doesn’t push, instead focuses on moving his legs in sync and not tripping over air.

“I believe that I was meant to fall,” Crowley answers quietly after a few minutes. “I have accepted the fact that had I not rebelled and ended cast out, I wouldn’t have met you.” Aziraphale can see how painful that admission is, so he squeezes Crowley’s hand.

“It doesn’t really matter if that was the plan or not. I’ve spent way too long feeling sorry for myself. And then we met.” The demon stops them from moving in the middle of the circle, not caring about all the people around them. “You are worth way more than losing my grace and being a demon, Aziraphale. Maybe that was Her plan, maybe it was a huge coincidence. Truth is, I don’t care and I haven’t cared in a very, very long time.”

Aziraphale smiles and pushes himself up on his tiptoes, pressing their lips together. He knows that whatever happens next, he will always choose Crowley and Crowley will always choose him in return.


End file.
